


untitled goose fic

by notictus



Category: DCU (Comics), Untitled Goose Game (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 02:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21091583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notictus/pseuds/notictus
Summary: Dick’s good, sure, all the Bats are—but Goose isbetter. And one of these days, he's going to corner Dick on some rooftop and prove it to him.





	untitled goose fic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crookedspoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/gifts).

> Please enjoy this drawerfic that I blatantly re-purposed for this exchange. Set early during the UTRH arc and references _Nightwing (1996)_ #199.
> 
> Basically, an AU where everything is the same, except Jason Todd is a goose.

Blüdhaven is Gotham’s ugly stepsister.

Gotham was a sight to behold back in her prime, before the scum and filth infested the streets; her worn and weathered facades speaking of an opulence that’s long since passed. Blüdhaven, however, was never beautiful. Just a labyrinth of semi-developed government housing projects that never got off the ground, and a handful of abandoned megamalls that couldn’t recover from the economic crash.

The ‘Haven may be beyond Batman’s reach, but every city needs her knight in shining armour, and Nightwing is probably the next best thing. Nightwing who, at this moment, is efficiently apprehending three would-be robbers who were intent on holding up the convenience store on 34th Street. Goose has been tracking Nightwing all night, little more than a ghost in his shadow. Bruce may have taught them all how to detect and evade a tail, but Goose has trained with the League of Shadows: he knows how to remain undetected.

Goose would sooner die than admit it, but he’s always loved watching Dick work. Dick moves with a fluidity that’s like liquid, the kind of skill that’s impossible to achieve through training alone. Every movement is deft, economised, not an ounce of energy wasted. Goose spent his teenage years trying to emulate his style, and fell short each and every time. Dick’s good, sure, all the Bats are—but Goose is _better_. And one of these days, he’s going to corner Dick on some rooftop and prove it to him.

*

Goose returns to Blüdhaven the following day. He bugs Dick’s apartment not because he needs intel, but mostly because he _can_. Dick might have struck out on his own to make a name for himself in the ‘Haven, but he’s still taking full advantage of all the Bat Tech Bruce has got to offer. The security system is one Goose recognises, standard Bat-issued fare, and Goose disarms it with laughable ease.

Once inside, Goose sweeps for bugs. Bruce has got his own eyes here, most likely using Oracle as a proxy; when you’re a Bat, surveillance is less of an invasion of privacy, and more of a fucked-up way of saying you care. But Goose has got his own toys, his Kord Tech easily disabling cameras and microphones, and within minutes he’s ensured that he’s truly alone. He places his own cameras in obvious positions, not even bothering to hide them. Goose has never been one to play coy, and most of the fun comes from watching Dick squirm.

Before Goose leaves, he helps himself to lunch from Dick’s fridge. He shifts the coffee table three inches to the left, tilts some of the generic-looking prints on the wall on a slight angle. Tiny details, enough to trigger the tripwire of Dick’s defences, and send his Bat Instincts into overdrive.

Goose is rewarded for his trouble several hours later. He’s back in his safehouse in Gotham, sitting before a wall of monitors; bathed in the blue glow, and doing his best Oracle impression. It’s not long before Dick appears on one of the screens. He enters the apartment looking every bit the part of earnest and upstanding Officer Grayson, and immediately tenses. _Good_, Goose notes with satisfaction. He lights a cigarette in victory. Goose had thought Dick might be getting complacent in his new gig, but the way he switches to high alert says otherwise.

Dick passes over his standard BPD-issued 9mm and reaches instead for the baton holstered at his hip—and it’s proof that some things never fucking change. Goose smirks around his cigarette as Dick darts from room to room with practiced ease, ready to strike out at an intruder that has long-since left. Goose watches him approach a camera, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown, looking right into the lens. Goose holds his breath, and for a second it’s almost like Dick’s seeing straight through him. But then Dick destroys the camera, and the screen fills with static.

*

Goose doesn’t see Dick again until much later: after the Narrows, after the explosion, after Bruce’s blade at his throat. After _it’s him or me, you have to decide_.

Dick’s in New York, beyond the reach of Gotham’s shadow, and well and truly on his own. Dick spends his nights beating up crooks and protecting the city, and spends his days sleeping with supermodels. Same shit, different city.

Goose monitors Dick’s apartment from the abandoned block opposite, waiting until Dick leaves for the night before breaking in. Dick’s security isn’t any better than it was in Blüdhaven, and it takes Goose no time at all to disable it.

Dick keeps his spare Nightwing suits in a hidden compartment in his closet. They don’t fit Goose quite the same, but once he puts on the domino, there’s no mistaking it: Goose _is_ Nightwing. 

*

Goose has killed a dozen assorted mafia and drug dealers by the time Dick catches up with him.

“Goose? Is that you?”

They’re on a rooftop, because it’s always a rooftop, and Goose finds himself thinking, _this is my chance._ He’s learned a lot since the last time he was running around in short pants, and he’s ready to show Dick how much of a threat he’s become since their last encounter.

“Goose, what the hell are you doing in that costume?” Goose doesn’t answer, just delivers a blow that has Dick reeling.

Dick’s mouth is stained red, and he spits blood at Goose’s feet. “I’m serious Goose, I don’t loan-lease, especially not to murdering misfits. What do you think this is”—Dick aims an uppercut that Goose dodges by mere inches—“that we’d be partners? You’re delusional.”

Goose’s heart kicks into overdrive. He’s been spoiling for a fight since he arrived in New York, something more exciting than the low-level crooks who bled out before they could even get a punch in. Dick tackles Goose to the ground, the two of them rolling on the gravel, trading blows.

Dick finally manages to pin Goose, and Goose can only struggle in his grasp. “Well?” Dick says, his mouth red with blood. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Goose stops struggling and surrenders to the weight of Dick on top of him. He looks Dick dead in the eye, refusing to falter under the intensity of his gaze, and says the only thing he can:

“HONK.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [untitled goose fic (ruffled feathers remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231567) by [crookedspoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon)


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